


Lost

by orphan_account



Series: safe [3]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Au everyone lives, Bagfurshield, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Violence, More angst, Multi, did i mention the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's betrayal with the Arkenstone had hurt more than Thorin would have thought, and the shared memories do not help. Neither does his sudden fear that Bofur too will leave, now that the hobbit is no longer here to keep them together.<br/>But there is a battle coming, one he knows he might not survive, and nothing else can matter now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alckalin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alckalin/gifts).



> My shipping partner suggested I did something with Bilbo/Bofur/Thorin, after the Arkenstone betrayal. I only live to serve, so here we are.  
> Set in the same AU as "Safer", because I had dropped so many hints about their relationship that it would have been a pity not to use it again, right?  
> And It's 2am here so I apologize for any mistakes, I am in no state to see them.

“ _I gave it to them!” squeaked Bilbo, who was peering over the wall, by now in a dreadful fright._

“ _You! You!” cried Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with both hands. “You miserable hobbit! You undersized – burglar!”_

The betrayal had been too great for words. In the end the only thing that had prevented Thorin from killing the hobbit just there and then had been the memories of past deeds and of good moments shared together. But maybe that should have been one more reason to hate him. The dwarf king didn't trust easily, but after all they had been through, he could have given the hobbit his life and felt safe.

And what had he gained for all that? The worst of all thefts. That hobbit, that _creature_ had dared to take his Arkenstone, his heart of the mountain, and to give it away to his enemies. Worse even, he had made his company _doubt_ him. The fools liked the hobbit, appreciated his cleverness, and now more than one of them was wondering if the little traitor hadn't done the right thing.

But Thorin wasn't one to feel sorry for himself. Since he had been forced to agree to the thieves' conditions, he had exchanged many messages with Dain, thanks to the ravens, and he hoped to see his cousin's army by the following dawn.

 

* * *

 

Night had started falling, and Roäc the raven had just left again, when Bofur came to bring the king his portion of _cram_ to eat. Thorin, for the first time in hours, decided to allow himself a few moment of rest and sat on a stone chair, looking expectantly at the toy-maker. Some words of comfort would have been welcomed in such a dark hour, and hadn't the hobbit betrayed the both of them?

But Bofur only gave him the food and, without a single look to his face, turned back and made for the door.

“Aren't you going to sit with me?” Thorin asked. “Or were you really there only for the halfling?”

“I was involved with a kind king and a loyal hobbit,” came Bofur's answer. “Seems now I have neither. But I'll sit with you if you wish it, _my king_.”

“Are you calling me a bad king?”

“Maybe. What does it matter? Ye don't really listen to anyone anymore, do ye? Even yer nephews don't like what's happening here, and ye're their hero, their father! And Bilbo...”

Thorin jumped out of his chair.

“Do not say that name in front of me,” he all but screamed. “That... creature betrayed us! He took away my Arkenstone, he allied himself to elves and men, he...”

“He did what he thought right, as he always did! Isn't that what ye liked 'bout him? Isn't that why ye first courted him, why we both did?”

“Silence! We shall not speak of that. I do not wish to be reminded of what I allowed from that miserable creature.”

And then, there was that look on Bofur's face, with the fake smile that never reached his eyes. Thorin hated that smile, and the impact it had on him. He hated the memories it brought back, of days past when he had started showing interest to the halfling, only to realize that the toy-maker had been doing the same for weeks already. And it had been with that same fake smile that Bofur had told his king that he he was ready to give up on the hobbit if Thorin promised to make him happy. But things hadn't quite worked like that, and they'd found a way to make things work, the three of them, and they'd been happy, as happy as they could be on such a dangerous quest, and it would all have been perfect If only Bilbo hadn't decided to join the other side.

Strong arms encircled Thorin, and for a moment he decided to allow it, though he did not return the embrace.

“I won't change my mind,” he said stubbornly. “The Arkenstone is mine, and so is the gold. I've fought too hard for all this, I can't give it up already.”

“It's yer choice as a king, and as a dwarf,” Bofur sighed. “Don't 'xpect me pretend to agree or to s'pport it though, 'cause I don't.”

“Will you leave too, then? Follow him to fight along elves and humans?”

And that idea was too much for him. He had wanted to be strong, because he couldn't afford to let this affect him, not on the eve of battle, but losing both Bilbo and Bofur on the same day, when he needed them so much, was more than he could bear. He could not allow it.

“Do not leave,” he said -begged pleaded ordered hoped- as he finally put his hands on Bofur's back and held him as close as he could, as if that could make him stay.

“I won't go,” the other dwarf promised. “I don't agree with what's going on, and I think ye're wrong. But I'll stay with ye, till the end.”

That was better than nothing, Thorin decided. Pity, just this once, was better than being left behind.

 

* * *

 

When, as the battle was just starting, news arrived of an army of orcs and wargs, Thorin joined the other leaders to decide what was to be done. He thought he spotted his hobbit as he walked through the elves' ranks, but he dared not look back. It was too late now, and all he could do was hope his burglar would somehow survive what was to come.

 

* * *

 

Killing Azog gave him more satisfaction than he would have admitted. It brought him closure, in a sense, thought he had but a few seconds to enjoy the feeling before more orcs arrived, riding their wargs. One of the creature tried to attack Fili while he was struggling with a Wild Wolf, and Thorin's heir was only saved because his other nephew threw himself between his brother and the blade, earning a deep wound on the side of his head. Fili saw it, and tried to go to his fallen brother, but the warg he had been fighting was not quite dead yet, and found the strength to bite into Fili's arm, all but tearing it away before Thorin managed to kill it. But it was too late.

As far as he was concerned, the war was lost, and though he went back to killing the monsters trying to invade his lands, he had given up on protecting his own life. When he finally fell, Bofur was the first one to arrive and defend his body.

After all, he had promised he would remain, till the end.

 

* * *

 

Once the battle was over, they brought the dead, the dying and the wounded inside the great halls of the Lonely Mountain, elves and dwarves and humans all together. Bofur tried to find something positive to make of it, but the whole pointlessness of it all pained him too much. Optimism was impossible when one of his lovers was on his death bed and the other missing, when Fili, always so full of life, had to be drugged constantly to endure the pain in what had been his arm, when Kili was as good as dead.

“He's not dead!” little Ori had yelled when two elves had wanted to put the dark haired prince among the fallen. “He's alive, he's breathing! He's alive, and I'll make sure he stays so if it's the last thing I do!”

And they had allowed it, of course, because there was no point in refusing the child whatever hope he could find. He would learn only too soon that wars could claim even the lives of those you loved. Bofur knew that only too well.

The worse thing, in his opinion, was that unlike Ori, he probably wouldn't get to be with his lover when he would died. As far as the others where concerned, he had no claims on Thorin, whose only known lover was Bilbo. It had seemed so logical at the time to hide what was going on: the king was already courting a halfling, which was unheard of, so having two lovers at once? That would have been scandalous, and so Bofur had agreed to hide, to pretend he was only Bilbo's friend. It had made sense at the time, but now it meant they would not let him see his king, and he didn't have the strength to make a scandal now.

And, at least, Gandalf did his best to inform him of every changes. Technically, the wizard didn't have any more right to being around Thorin, but most people were wise enough to let him do as he pleased.

“He's asked for Bilbo,” the old man said as a bloody dawn started rising. “Several time.”

“Only Bilbo?”

There was a moment of silence, and Bofur could practically hear the wizard looking for something nice to say. Of course Gandalf would have known the entire truth. Blasted man always knew everything.

“Of course, it's only Bilbo that he threatened to kill,”Gandalg eventually said. “He must greatly feel the need to make peace with him before... well, you've seen his wounds.”

“I've seen them, yes. And I don't blame him. I s'ppose Bilbo was the reason we kept together, in the end.”

And oh, didn't that hurt, knowing Thorin only cared for him because it made it easier to care for their hobbit. But it wasn't like he never knew, and he had no right to ask for more than that.

“Still no news of our burglar then?” he asked.

“None yet, but they are still bringing people in. Have no fear, master dwarf, I am sure he is well and will soon be back with us.”

But the wizard sounded anything but confident, as if he were lying to himself as much as to the dwarf. And that, for Bofur, decided it. He couldn't help the wounded, and they wouldn't allow him near Thorin, but there was still one thing he could do, and that was finding Bilbo and bringing him to the dying king before it was too late.


	2. forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo is found, but Thorin is lost

They had been searching for hours before they found Bilbo, and during all that while, they had discovered enough new fallen fighters that Bofur had almost entirely lost hope. But then, one man had arrived, carrying the little hobbit, and the sheer joy of it could have killed the dwarf. Bilbo himself looked quite as relieved, and asked to be put back on the ground, where he quickly fell in his lover's arms.

“Nasty business, this battle!” Bilbo has sighed then. “Quite puts you off from wanting to go on any adventures, it really does.”

At this, Bofur did not know what to answer. He only squeezed the hobbit against him, holding him as tightly as Thorin had done to himself the night before the battle.

“We cannot stay here,” soon said the man who had carried Bilbo. “There are still some orcs and wargs that survived, and who could decide that we make for an easy prey. Let's us hurry inside and bring the halfling to the wizard, as he ordered. Mr Baggins, should I carry you again?”

The hobbit hesitated at that, clearly torn between his exhaustion and being with Bofur. The dwarf smiled, and pushed him toward the man.

“There'll be plenty of time to talk later. For now, he's right, we'd better hurry. We've got more than one reason to want to be quick, and it could be too late already.”

Bilbo looked about to ask what he might be late for, as he greatly treasured punctuality, but the man started walking again, and Bofur had a good excuse to remain silent. Of course, he knew the hobbit would learn about Thorin, sooner or later, but he was not sure he could be the one to tell him.

Gandalf was waiting for them, of course, and he looked as happy as Bofur that Bilbo had been found.

“A terrible business,” the wizard said, echoing Bilbo's earlier words, “and it nearly was disastrous. But other news can wait, you are called for.”

“Called for? By whom?”

Gandalf looked surprised at that, and shot a sharp glance as Bofur. The two of them were quite as reluctant to have to tell the little hobbit about the state of the dwarf king, but Bofur was the one who gave in. As much as he didn't want to be the one to pain Bilbo so, he found the idea of another doing it unbearable, a treason of sorts. For better or for worse, they were involved, the three of them, and since the worst had happened, it was up to him to announce it.

“It was a fierce battle, m'little burglar,” he said, taking his hand. “Many have died then, and there are many who are still waiting to die. Thorin is of those, and he is now asking for you. I fear he only waits to see ye to go in peace, if you will forgive him.”

“But that's impossible!” Bilbo exclaimed. “He's Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, nothing... nothing can kill him! What would be the point of me taking his damn stone and trying to make peace between everyone if he still dies? You must tell me, have you seen his wounds, are they really that bad?”

“He asked only for ye, little one. I did not see him.”

Bofur had tried to say it as if he did not matter, as if he had made his peace with this idea, but he had never been a good actor, and it made Bilbo frown.

“Show me where he is,” the hobbit asked. “I refuse to believe he is dying before I have seen him with my own eyes. Thorin Oakenshield is too stubborn a dwarf to let death take him away so easily!”

It almost made Bofur laugh, seeing their little burglar complain again about the king's stubbornness, as he had done countless times during their journey, but soon he found himself choking back tears at the surge of memories that would never be again. Instead, he put a large hand on the hobbit's shoulder and they walked toward the room where Thorin was lying, the wizard by their side. They did not exchange a word on their way, though there were many things Bofur wished he could say, words of comforts and of hope, to reassure the hobbit, to try and make him believe that there was still hope. But that would have beeb a lie, and at such a moment he could see no worse crimes.

The dwarves guarding Thorin's room were delighted to see Bilbo, and one ran inside to tell the king that the burglar had finally been found. And this was it, Bofur thought. He had done his last good deed toward Thorin, bringing his lover back to him, that he might see their lover one last time. He had nothing more to do there for the time being, and there were certainly plenty of places where he could make himself useful, now that he wasn't so worried about the hobbit's fate.

“I'll leave ye be then, little one,” the dwarf gravely said. “I'm sure you'll find me easily enough once it's... done, and so...”

“Where are you going?” Bilbo asked. “Aren't you coming too?”

“He asked only for ye.”

It should have been of an explanation, and Bilbo should have understood, shouldn't he? But instead, the small hobbit grabbed the dwarf's hand with unexpected strength, a panicked look on his beardless face.

“You can't let me go alone!” he cried. “I can't do that, I can't face him alone, I can't see him like that and not have you by my side! And he _must_ want to see you, I know it, I know he wouldn't want to see you too one last time before... It's just... He must be half gone already, or he'd never have forgotten you, of this I am quite sure! And if not for him then for me, please, come, I can't _do_ this alone!”

“Then we'll do it together, if it will help you.”

And together they entered the room, Bilbo's grip on the dwarf's arm tighter than ever.

* * *

 

Thorin was lying on a bed of straw and dead leaves, the best they could find to make his last moments as comfortable as possible. They even put a sheet on him, to hide his wounds -and doesn't that make Bofur furious, they should be trying to heal him, not denying the truth -but nothing sould hide the ashen colour of his skin, the way his eyes couldn't seem to focus on anything.

It was Bilbo who made the first step toward their dying lover, dragging Bofur behind him, to take Thorin's hand in his. The king turned to them, and there was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he seemed to recognize them.

“Farewell, good thief,” he said. “I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers, until the world is renewed. Since I leave now all gold and silver, an go where it is of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you, and I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate.”

“If you wish to give me friendship, then I shall accept it gladly,” the hobbit answered. “As for me, I still have the same love and affection for you as ever, though we did not always agree. Should you really... leave us, I will miss you dearly, until my last day. We both will.”

“We? Is Bofur here, then?”

“I'm here, my king,” said the toy-maker, coming closer and putting his hand over Thorin and Bilbo's.

Thorin smiled again.

“Then you did stay until the end, and for this I shall be always grateful. Take care of our burglar for me, let everyone know that there must be no grudges held against him. And you, Bilbo... take care of that fool of a dwarf. May you be as kind to him as I should have liked to be.”

Bilbo nodded frenetically, caressing the dwarf king's hand, waiting for more instructions and kind words, but none came. Thorin's eyes had closed.

“Let us go,” Bofur whispered. “There is nothing more we can do for him now, and ye have wounds that needs to be looked at.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted that chapter to be longer but then it seemed like such a nice place to stop, so we'll just have to wait to see how the boys deal with all this.


	3. leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a decisions are taken, Bombur is a happy dwarf, and Gandalf knows things.

Bofur took care of Bilbo's wounds himself. He was not much of a healer, but the hobbit wasn't hurt as badly as most others, and neither of them were in a state to be around others. No one protested though. The dwarves of the Company knew of the love between their king and their burglar. They knew also what close friend Bofur had been for the two of them, and could perfectly understand that they would need some time alone.

And some time alone they got. As soon as Bilbo's scratches had been disinfected, they retreated to the part of the Mountain that was serving as a kitchen for the time being. It was a nice, warm, safe place. It was also entirely under Bombur's command, and the fat dwarf knew exactly what had been going on between them and Thorin, because Bofur had never been good at keeping secrets from his brother. Bombur found them a nice corner to sit, away from most of the agitation but close enough to the fire to be comfortable, gave them a nice hot stew he had cooked with of his elven and human helpers, and then ordered everyone present to leave them alone, shouting at everyone who so much as looked at them.

“Your brother is a surprisingly resourceful dwarf,” Bilbo said, cuddling up to Bofur.

“No one expect it from him, yeah. Not much of a fighter that one, but he's good at what he does. He'll fit in very nice in here. People always like a good cook, even more one who can make fine meals out of nothing.”

“And you? What are you going to do now?”

Bofur thought about it, holding the hobbit tight on his side.

“When I left Ered Luin, I thought it was to become a miner here, like my mom and dad had been. But on the way there, I thought again, and I _like_ making toys, ye know? Makes children happy and all, eh? And now I'm just... too surprised to still be alive to do anything more.”

Bilbo nodded sadly. He put down both their bowls, then took one of Bofur's hand in his.

“And ye, little one? What are ye going to do now? Not much to keep ye here now.”

“There's you. And it's not like I really have anywhere else to go, do I? I mean, sure, there's Bag End, but I'm quite the improper hobbit now, they'll all despise me back there. A Baggins, going on an adventure! And not just that, but enjoying the companies of males too, and dwarves males at that! Thorin really ruined m...”

The hobbit's voice faltered, and he suddenly pressed a hand against his mouth, as if that could take back the name he had just said. But nothing could change the truth, and as tears started forming at the corners of his lovers' eyes, it hit Bofur.

Thorin was dead.

They had not had much time together, the three of them. Barely a few weeks in fact, but it had been enough to create memories that would haunt them until their last days. And yet, it had not been enough at all; there was too much that hadn't happened, but should have. Bofur had wanted to see Thorin as a king, not just of thirteen fools, but of an entire people, because then maybe he would have smiled, really smiled, and laughed too. It would have been wonderful to hear laughter coming from a dwarf who had denied himself his entire life for the sake of his people. Not that Thorin had been grim when it was the three of them, but even at such times he had seemed to carry the burden of the fall of Erebor, as if a single instant of true joy from him would have been a betrayal of those who had died.

“It's not fair,” Bilbo sobbed next to him, and Bofur moved to hold him in his arms. “I gave away his stupid stone to avoid... this! And I was ready to fight against him, I was with the elves before the orcs arrived, I really betrayed him, and you too, and none of this is _fair_.”

“No, it's not, love. But at least we had him for a while, didn't we? And ye know he loved ye, or else he'd never have asked to see you again. Proud one, our Thorin, and you'd hurt his pride greatly... but he liked ye better than his pride at the end, and that's something.”

These had been meant to be comforting words, but instead Bofur felt his hobbit tense in his arms.

“ _Damn_ his pride! He'd still be alive if not for it! If he'd had the sense to agree to the men and the elves' conditions, then...”

“Then he wouldn't have been Thorin, woud he?” Bofur softly protested. “That's his pride that drove him that far, and ye know it. He'd never have shown up with all of us, in your little home, if he hadn't been the proudest of dwarves to begin with.”

“I know all that! But it's still so... so _stupid_.”

Bofur didn't know how to answer that, and kept silent. A few moment passed this way, the two of them watching the animation of the kitchen.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to say I want to go back to the Shire?” Bilbo suddenly asked. “I know it's not fair to you, asking you to leave your family behind, but I don't think I can stay here now. It's just...”

“Everything reminds ye of him,” Bofur finished for him, and the hobbit nodded. “It's the same for me. I'm fine with leaving, if that's what ye want. It was a fine little hole ye had yerself in the Shire, and I'm sure folds there wouldn't mind too much having a toymaker around, even a dwarf one. When would ye want to go?”

“As soon as possible. I can't... I can't stay here, I can't see him buried. I just can't. But you can stay for it if you want, and I'd wait for you in Esgaroth.”

“Mahal know I _should_ , I promised I'd be there till the end, but I don't think I can anymore than ye do. We could leave in the morning then, and even if we don't head straight back to yet home, it'd be nice enough to stay in Esgaroth and help a bit, then travel in spring.”

 

* * *

 

They told Bombur, and the fat dwarf cried, and promised to come and visit them as soon as possible. He also offered to prepare some food for their trip, which they gladly accepted.

Bofur had made himself a bedroom of sort the night before the battle, in a quite corner of the fortress. As all his things were there, they went and packed together, taking with them less gold than should have been the dwarf's share, but more than they would ever need in the Shire. Once that was done, they decided to go to bed, hoping to leave early the next day. They had asked Bombur to explain the others where they had gone, fearing they might start crying if they were to say goodbye.

But sleep did not come easily. Though neither said a thing, they both felt the absence on the other side of Bilbo, where their lover should have been asleep. More than once, they turned that way, as if to say something, only to find an empty space.

When Bofur finally fell asleep, all he met were memories of the past two days. The battle, all around him, the orcs yelling and attacking. Kili's blow to the head, spraying scarlet blood all around. Fili's cries as a warg tore his arm away. Thorin falling, again and again, his face white from the loss of blood. Thorin furious, ready to throw Bilbo from the height of the mountain. Thorin holding him, the night before the battle, looking old and sad and desperate. Thorin on his death bed, seeing him, smiling at him and at Bilbo, before closing his eyes and abandoning them.

Dawn had not yet arrived when Bofur woke up, but he knew he would not find sleep again. Careful not to wake Bilbo, he dressed and went to fetch breakfast. In the kitchen he found Bombur, already up and at work, looking happier than his brother had ever seen him. Bofur was glad that Erebor had brought happiness to at least one of them. They talked for a few minutes, before Bofur went back to his room with some bread and cheese, as well as provisions for the journey.

Bilbo was awake when he came back, but he had not been for long. He ran to the dwarf and clutched at him, like a terrified child.

“You were dead!” he muttered. “There was... I saw the battle, and Thorin was dead, and so were you, and you were gone when I woke up, and I thought....”

The hobbit broke into tears, and Bofur tried his best to hug him, despite the food in his hands.

“I'm here, love,” he whispered sadly. “I'm here and I'm not going anywhere without ye, fear not. Ye're stuck with me, for better or worse.”

 

* * *

 

The sky was barely growing pink when they arrived at the main gate, but Gandalf was there, waiting for them. His expression was unreadable, though Bofur had a feeling that it was because the wizard himself did not know what to think of the situation.

“Are you sure you'll want to be leaving, my dear Mr Baggins?” the old man asked. “I don't know what Thorin told you yesterday, but...”

“What's past is past,” sternly answered the hobbit. “I have no reason to stay here now.”

“And you, Bofur? Didn't you tell me that you had promised to stay until the end? I thought you a dwarf of your word. Though I understand the choice must have been a difficult one.”

“More difficult than you'd think,” the dwarf admitted. “Here's where my kin is, but Bilbo has nothing or no one here, and if he leaves, than I can't think of staying. I know it's not right, not to pay his respect to a dead dwarf, but that's above my strength now.”

The wizard raised an eyebrow.

“Pay his respect?”

They both nodded grimly. It was not _right_ , they knew it only too well. But then again, it wasn't their Thorin that people would burry. The dwarves would take away the corpse of a King under the Mountain, a dwarf proud and distant who had been ready to sacrifice everything everything for his people. That was who the others would honour. Their Thorin was a very different dwarf, surprisingly kind and tender, with an unexpected sense of humour.

They would find a way to honour him themselves later, privately, when the pain would be less great.

“I see,” Gandalf said with a queer smile that rather offended Bofur. He would have expected the wizard to understand their reluctance, at least.

“Then I can only advise that you stay in Esgaroth for the winter.” the old man added, still smilin. “The roads will soon be blocked by the snow, and it would be a shame to die of the cold after having survived so much.”

The promised to be careful, and asked Gandalf to come and visit if he ever went around the Shire.

“Oh, fear not, Bilbo Baggins. I am fairly sure I'll see you again. Probably as soon as you get home, in fact.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewritten this chapter several time because they were too OoC and they probably still are but I want to get rid of this part so it will have to do I suppose.


	4. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which friends never act the way you would expect them to.

The trip from Erebor to Esgaroth was one of the worst ones in Bofur's life. He could not help but be reminded of the days, not so long before, when the entire company had ridden to the mountain, scared but hopeful, Thorin leading them and looking more regal with every step. That was when they had really lost him, Bofur thought sadly. No matter how much they had loved him, it had simply been impossible to compete with his lost kingdom. They could not compare with the gold and the Arkenstone.

That realization must have made him look quite miserable, because Bilbo suddenly started babbling about the Shire, and how nice it would be for them to live there.

“Of course, since we'll only leave Esgaroth in spring, I'm afraid you'll miss the summer there for this year, and that's a true shame. The hills are trully beautiful in that season, and there's nothing nicer than a walk under the sun when you know there's some cold ale waiting for you home. But we should have most of fall to enjoy, and that's not so bad either. It's a great time for parties, there's plenty of food everywhere, and music and songs, you'll love it. I'll have to teach you one or two of our ballads, we rarely have a voice as deep as yours in our parts, everyone will want to listen to you. And then, well, there will be winter of course. That's quite nice too. It can get rather cold of course, but I find there are few things more enjoyable than sitting at home by the window, with a nice hot cup of tea, watching the snow fall in the garden. We could even make snowmen, I suppose, though you'll have to help me. I was never really good at them.”

“And you don't ye fear the neighbours then?” Bofur tried to tease, though he knew the issue was a real one. “From all ye've told on the trip, I'd think it'd be quite the scandal for such a proper little hobbit as ye to live with a dwarf. A male one, at that!”

“Oh, I suppose it will give them something to talk about,” Bilbo sighed. “We Shire folks love gossip, though I like to think I was never the worst offender when it came to that. And with or without you, I am anything but respectable now, you know. Not that I mind. If handsome dwarves are what you get when you let go of property, then I am more than glad that I... look! Another raven! That's at least the third one I've seen this afternoon. Do you think something happened?”

“Dain must be sending messages home. He's got himself two kingdoms to rule now.”

The hobbit seemed to think about it for a moment, then frowned.

“I suppose... but the birds seem to be heading to Esgaroth, not the Iron Hills.”

“Then maybe they're asking for food,” Bofur suggested. “Winter is coming. They have wounded to treat, and everyone to feed. We... They'll need the help of the elves and the men if they don't want to starve to death. So don't ye worry, I'm sure there's no bad news going around.”

Bilbo tried to look reassured after that, but stopped talking of the Shire, and instead he started watching the sky.

* * *

 

They arrived in what was left of Esgaroth two days later, and by then they had spotted enough ravens coming and going to be both worried about it. But once they entered the city in ruins, they somehow felt safer, lost as they were in the crowd. And what a crowd! Men, dwarves and elves, all working together to reconstruct the town before the first snows. It was rather surprising to see all three races working together like that, but Bofur saw it made Bilbo happier.

“Maybe this whole thing wasn't for nothing then,” the hobbit explained. “Everyone has lost so much, but if there's peace to be earned, then it was worth it, wasn't it?”

“It certainly was. And ye made a right choice, giving away Thorin's stone. If not for it, I fear he'd have told Dain to attack straight away, and Mahal knows how we'd have done 'gainst the goblins. Ye probably saved us all, Bilbo Baggins.”

That made the hobbit blush, and he immediately protested, but seemed less gloomy after.

Their first move was to go see the Master of Esgaroth, to ask him if there was any way in which they could help. They had brought some gold with them, much less then should have been Bofur's share, but more than enough to comfortably live in the Shire, but they had agreed that they were willing to spend a good deal of it in Esgaroth if necessary. Bilbo was rich enough back home to allow the two of them to live comfortably even without gold.

The Master had established himself in one of the few houses that had survived the fire. It was guarded by some of his men, who had strict orders not to let anyone in that did not have an appointment with the Master.

“But I know Bard, and he can speak for me!” Bilbo had protested. “I come here to help, we both do. I am Bilbo Baggins, of Bag-End, tell that to the Master, and...”

“Baggins?” one of the guard repeated. “You're the dwarves' little creature then, the one who had that dreadful cold when Thorin's company arrived? What are you _doing_ here? You shouldn't stay in Esgaroth, it's not... safe for you!”

“How could it not be safe? We have no enemies here, and...”

“You have them in the mountain,” the guard whispered. “I am telling you this, because I was with Bard when you came to give him Thorin's stone, and I do not think you did any wrong. But many ravens have come from Erebor, and not all of them bearing offers of peace and asking for food. You left the mountain just in time. I hear the new king isn't too happy about you, master Baggins. And if _you_ are master Bofur, I'd advise you leave soon, and with the hobbit, because I've heard just as bad about you.”

“And what's that ye've heard, lad?”

“The Master has given orders that you be arrested soon as you'll be spotted,” the man admitted. “Most of us don't know you by sight, so you're safe enough. But there are accusations of theft, it seems. Like you two stole the king's treasure, and he's mighty mad about it. So be careful, and don't stay here too long. If Bard should see you... Oh."

The man stopped abruptly, looking at a point behind them, guilty all over his face. Bofur and Bilbo turned, and found themselves face to face with Bard, looking as grim as ever.

"Master Baggins, I am glad to find you well," the human archer said. "I had been worried after the battle. I had been assured you were alive, but I could not be sure until now. I am glad you are well, though I wished I could have met you again in happier circumstances."

Bofur took a step ahead, putting himself between his hobbit and the human.

"Ye're not really going to arrest us, are ye? After all Bilbo did to try and help ye!"

The man shrugged.

"I would not arrest it, were the decision mine to make," Bard said. "But it is not. The Dwarven king has declared that bringing you back to him was an essential condition if we wanted to make any treaties in the future. The Master decided your past services were less important than the peace of years to come, and until Dale is ours again, I must obey him."

"Then if your conscience tells you it is right, we shall not resist," Bilbo answered.

"My conscience says to let you go," Bard calmly protested. "But that would be acting upon my feelings, and I cannot afford this when my people will soon need the help of the dwarves. I am sorry, master Baggins. At least, I have been promised that no harm would come onto you, and the King specifically requested that you two must be treated with care."

"Well, isn't _that_ a comfort."

It felt strange, going back to Erebor already. At least, Bard did not chain them, nor did he treat them as prisoners. But that was didn't make Biblo and Bofur any less worried. They weren't sure who was king now, with Thorin dead, and his nephews probably on their way to join him, but Bofur thought Dain from the Iron Hills was the most likely candidate.

"Strange thought, I don't see him as the type to have us arrested," the dwarf said. "He ain't s'pposed to have an easy character, worse than our Thorin for that, really, but I'd have thought him smart enough not to blame you for this thing with the Arkenstone."

"So you think it's about that?"

"What else? Taking _me_ away maybe?" Bofur laughed at this idea. "Yeah, can't ye just picture me as someone's precious treasure? Good joke, that one."

"Well, you are the most precious _I_ have at least," Bilbo mumbled, shyly looking away.

Bofur smiled, but did not answer, taking the hobbit's hand in his instead.

* * *

 

When they arrived in Erebor, Bombur was waiting for them at the door, as well as several members of the company. Bard had sent a messaged when he had arrested them (the Master, whom they had seen, had called it "making sure they returned safely to Erebor"; it had fooled no one).

Strangely, everyone, including Bombur, seemed rather angry at them, and their welcome was rather cold. Bilbo did not seem overly surprised by it, and certainly the poor hobbit must still have felt guilty of what he thought of as a treason. But Bofur did not understand the way the others stared at them, as if they had committed some major crime. The way they had tried to leave had been less than polite, but certainly they had done nothing to deserve such coldness.

That even his brother kept at a distance hurt much than it should have.

"The King wants to see you," Dwalin annonced dryly. "We're to bring you to him this moment."

"They are not to be harmed," Bard reminded him. "That is the only reason I agreed to bring them here, tell your king that. Should anything happen to them..."

"They've got nothing to fear from our king, _human_.” Dwalin growled. “Even after what they've done, they are our friends more than yours, and if anyone wishes to harm them they'll have to answer to us. But the king ask for them, and so he shall have them.”

There was something in that _after what they've done_ that alerted Bofur. As far as he could tell, Dwalin had never been one to care much for gold, and he had seemed to approve Bilbo's attempt to bring peace by stealing the Arkenstone. Why he could now be angry about either thing was a mystery.

There was no time to ask, though. Dwalin immediately started moving, and they had to follow him through the corridors of the mountain, escorted by almost the entire company.

“How is Ori doing then?” Bofur asked, to try and break the silence.

“Still taking care of Kili,” Dori grumbled. “The child still think he can save him, fool that he is. But at least someone here knows how to act toward a wounded lover.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what we mean,” Dwalin growled menacingly. “If it were up t'me, you'd still be in Esgaroth, but it's _not_ up to me. Get in there now.”

A door was opened, and both Bofur and Bilbo were pushed inside a room. Dwalin was the only one. The door closed behind them, and Dwalin walked to a bed, where someone was lying. Bofur grabbed Bilbo's hand.

“They're here,” Dwalin said softly. “We caught them before they got too far. We brought them back.”

The hobbit exchanged a look with Bofur, who wondered if he looked as terrified and hopeful. But suddenly it didn't matter, because they heard Thorin's voice ordering them to come nearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JDKDSFJKFJDSKFJSDK I AM FINALLY DONE WITH THIS CHAPTER AND I CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE  
> I'll do my best to have some fluff in the following chapters, at last è_é


	5. love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which much needed conversations happen, and hobbits are annoyed

Thorin's head felt empty. Or filled with butter and cotton. Maybe both. Both seemed about right.

He'd had a fever, they said.

Still had it, actually. Fallen into a coma. Infection had started in his leg. Might have to cut it. Fever. Almost died.

Bilbo.

Bilbo and Bofur.

Fairly sure he had asked for them. Several times.

Missed them.

Missed both of them.

Asked for them.

“Bombur say they've left,” Balin told him. “Together.”

Together.

Of course. Bilbo hated him. Bofur never wanted him. Left. Together. Better.

Not better.

Yelled. Demanded. Ordered. Bring them back. His. Could not leave. His. Both. His.

Fever.

Leg. Bad state. Cut it. Pain. Fever.

No news of them. Bilbo and Bofur. Bofur and Bilbo. His. Must come back. His. His. _His_.

Both of them.

His.

“They've been found,” Balin said. “In the human town. That man, Bard, is bringing them back.”

Good.

Bard, bad. Thief. Stole Bilbo. Stole Arkenstone. Thief.

Back. Both of them. Back to him. Soon. _His_.

* * *

 

The fever lowered after a few days. It was still difficult to think. It was even harder to speak. Everything felt bright and noisy, and he slept most of the time. Thorin hated it, hated being so weak and useless. Hated knowing that both his nephews were in a critical state, perhaps even dying, and it was his fault. Hated that so many lives had been lost, that might have been saved if he hadn't been so stubborn. Hated that Bilbo and Bofur no longer wanted him, and had try to run away from him.

That hurt the most, if he were to be honest. The rest were his errors as a King, and he had long ago learned to accept he would always fail his people, no matter how hard he tried. But his two lovers leaving meant he had also failed as a dwarf. And that was something new.

Thorin rather regretted having asked for their return, during his feverish times. At the same time, he was fairly sure he had shouted a great deal of nonsense at that time, and he was rather surprised that only this particular order had been obeyed. He suspected Gandalf had something to do with it, meddlesome wizard that he was, but Thorin was determined that this time the old fool's plan would not succeed. He was a proud dwarf, but he knew how to accept he had been rejected. He would tell the first dwarf he'd see that things had changed, that his two lovers (friends, he'd have to say friends) were to be left alone and allowed to go wherever they wanted.

But the next dwarf was Dwalin, and he had Bofur and Bilbo with him. They were holding each other's hand, like scared children, and it worried Thorin. He hadn't always done right by them, but certainly he didn't deserve to be looked at like some sort of horrifying ghost, did he? Or maybe their fear had more to do with the fact that Dwalin looked ready to skin them alive, if only anyone would be so kind as to give the order.

“Leave us alone,” Thorin ordered. “Make sure we are not disturbed.

His old friend grimaced, clearly unhappy that this was not the order he wanted, but he left all the same. As soon as Dwalin was gone, Bilbo left Bofur's side and ran to Thorin, grabbing his hand and holding it tight.

“We thought you were dead!” the hobbit exclaimed before the dwarf could say a thing. “You had no pulse, I checked twice, and I couldn't see you breathe, and you had gone limp, and we left because we thought you were _dead_!”

“Not quite yet, my little burglar, though Oin says it's not for lack of trying.”

“We shouldn't have left,” Bilbo whispered, horrified. “It was not right. But I... I couldn't stand it, you being dead, and just the idea of them burying you... I couldn't stand it, I couldn't stay a single day more in that blasted mountain without you.”

“And Bofur followed you, of course.”

Thorin's gaze went from his hobbit to the other dwarf who still stood a respectable distance from his bed. The king wanted to call him to himself, to feel him close and hold his hand just as he was touching Bilbo's, but he dared not. Bofur had just learned that he'd once again have to share Bilbo's love, it would have been cruel to ask him to fake affection for Thorin now. But the hobbit had no such qualms, and he motioned for the toymaker to come nearer.

“We're not leaving again,” Bilbo solemny declared, holding both their hands. “This time you are stuck with us, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Until the end,” Bofur sighed with a small smile.

“Until the end,” Thorin repeated.

And he knew it was selfish, but he was glad that the two of them were once again _his_.

 

* * *

 

The following days passed rather nicely, all things considered. Thorin's wound were slowly healing, and he was required to rest a lot, which he found absolutely unbearable and boring, but there was nothing to be done about it. Bilbo and Bofur had been horrified to discover their lover had lost one leg after it had become infected, and had decided to take as good a care of him as could ever be. They barely left him alone a single moment, having asked for beddings to be installed for them, close to him. It was Bilbo who was the most present of the two, but only because it was easier for Bofur to carry anything they could need and to talk to the other dwarves.

It had hurt Thorin's pride at first to lie in bed when there was so much to do to rebuild Erebor. But spending time with his lovers without fear of being discovered or attacked wasn't so bad. Bilbo had turned out to be a true mother hen, intent on fattening Thorin until he deemed him healthy again. The hobbit sent Bofur down to the kitchens almost everyday, with new recipes that he was remembering, and Bombur was more than glad to try them.

“I'll soon be as fat as a troll,” Thorin complained once when he saw the size of his place. “And I do not approve to have so much food wasted on me when others could going hungry.”

“It's not wasted if you actually eat it, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo reminded him, “and you are given neither more nor less than anyone else in the mountain. Now finish what's here, or we're not telling you what news we have from Fili.”

That was all the motivation the king needed. The fate of his nephew was his greatest cause of guilt these days, and he regretted more than ever that he had dragged them in such a dangerous quest. That they had insisted, and had made it clear that they would follow him with or without his consent was of little importance; as their uncle, he should have been able to protect them, even from the foolishness of their youth.

“Fili is better than anyone would have dared to hope,” Bilbo cheerfully announced once the plate was empty. “What's left of his arm is healing nicely, and they think his eye might be saved after all. It will take a few week, and he probably won't see as well as before, but that's still good news. And he doesn't seem to mind too much, anyway. The little fiend is showing off his scars to his healer every time he can, I've heard.”

“Can't blame him,” Bofur chuckled. “I've seen the lass, she's as pretty as a diamond, and were I not otherwise engaged, I might have hurt meself just to have her care for me.”

“And what of Kili?” Thorin asked. “Any news from him?”

Bilbo and Bofur's smiles disappeared.

“Still nothing,” Bofur sighed sadly. “Ori... well, the lad is more than half in love with him. Says he's going to heal him. Make him better. Swears there's improvement. But it's... I've seen the wound, my king, and it as ugly as Bifur's ever was, except my cousin woke after a day, and it's been ten for Kili. Ye should not have too much hope for the boy.”

As he said that, the toymaker caressed the king's hand soothingly. The gesture must have been unconscious: as soon as Thorin moved, trying to properly take his lover's hand in his, Bofur withdrew and took a few steps away from the bed.

It made Bilbo frown.

This sort of things had become usual for them, sadly. It pained Thorin that the distance between them seemed to have grown since the battle. That night, when Bofur had agreed to remain with him as he waited for dawn, he had thought that, maybe, there was hope for him to really become Bofur's lover, rather than the dwarf with whom he was forced to share Bilbo. But now the toymaker openly avoided him, refusing even to be touched, as if any contact with Thorin burned him.

Still, the king had promised himself that, as soon as he was well again, he'd find a way to properly court and seduce Bofur. But for now, he had to accept that he was just being tolerated for Bilbo's sake.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks after the battle, Thorin grew too restless and had to be allowed to sit and work, at last. His healers entirely disapproved, and Oin promised that it was a terrible decision, but it was that or having to deal with a very grumpy king. Thorin had felt vaguely insulted when Bilbo had presented it that way to Oin, and even more so when the old dwarf had looked at him, and nodded with an air of resignation.

He wasn't _that_ difficult to deal with, really.

But he had too much to do to stay offended very long. There were reports to read and hear, orders to give, disputes to settle, homes to find for those of Dain's people who had decided to remain, and food for the winter to be bought. Thorin, thank the Creator, was helped in all this by Balin, who was his voice in public, and by Bofur, who acted as his ears and eyes, inspecting everything that needed to be inspected, checking everything that needed to be checked. He even dared a few comments of his own, now and then, which pleased Thorin more than he would have admitted. Seeing Bofur work so hard for the sake of his kingdom touched him deeply, even though he was almost sure the other dwarf was just using it as an excuse to stay away from him. And with that bitter-sweet thought in head, he'd go back to reading treaties.

“You work too hard,” Bilbo complained one night, as the king was finished a letter for the Master of Esgaroth. “You are still healing, and I suggested you occupied yourself so you'd not go mad, that's all. I didn't think you'd try to take care of the entire kingdom by yourself just yet. You are supposed to be _resting_ , Thorin Oakenshield. I do not want Bofur and me to have to go into mourning. _Again_.”

“I'm still amazed that it's somehow _my_ fault if you thought me dead.”

“You were being over dramatic, though I suppose I should be used to it by now, and you made me come to ask for my forgiveness, what was I supposed to think? That reminds me, I've been meaning to ask you something for a while now...”

“Yes?”

“Why just _me_? You were dying, or so you thought. Why only ask for me, why not Bofur too?”

“Because I did not think he would want to see me,” Thorin explained, surprised it needed to be said. Surely, Bilbo had to have noticed the way Bofur never wanted to be alone with him, and how all their conversations were strictly professional, or about their friends at best. Thorin cared for the other dwarf as much as for the hobbit, but he knew perfectly well that Bofur only stayed for Bilbo.

Bilbo who was now looking at the king with that annoyed frown that often appeared on his beardless face these days, whenever he looked at his lovers.

“If he had not wanted to see you,” the hobbit said slowly, as if talking to a young child, “then he would not have come to see you, not even after I asked him to. And _I_ only had to ask because _you_ didn't. And may I remind you that he chose to stay with you for the battle, rather than to follow me? _Think_ about that, will you?”

A more reasonable dwarf would have thought that the hobbit had made a fair point. Thorin was anything but reasonable, and so he prepared to make a lengthy explanation concerning the importance of fidelity to a king for dwarves, and how even for the sake of a lover you couldn't betray one you had sworn to serve, no matter what it cost you. Bilbo was only saved from this lesson by the doors opening, and Bofur barging in, half breathless. It had the two of them worried for a moment, until they saw the look of pure joy on his face.

“He's awake!” Bofur panted, running to Thorin's side and taking his hand. “Kili is awake! Ori says he's as well as anyone can be after a wound like that, if not better than he ought to be!”

“He's... are you sure?”

“Didn't see him myself, but I heard Ori say he'd talked to him and all. Balin is seeing him right now, and if he's fine they take him with the other wounded, that he may get proper care. Not that Ori didn't do a good job of it. Who'd have thought! Small lad like that, and he did better than Oin. I take back all I said about him refusing the truth, that boy is a wonder!”

Bofur was so taken by his enthusiasm that, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he leant toward Thorin and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

Not that Thorin complained.

It was terribly nice, really. Bofur's lips were rougher than Bilbo's, and his moustache felt nice against Thorin's beard, and the king wouldn't have minded to stay like that a while longer, but all too soon it was over.

Bofur stepped back, looking pale and horrified. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean... I'd _never_ have...”

That had Thorin frowning. He should have expected it, of course. It had only been the meaningless act of a moment of joy too great to be contained, nothing more. And no matter how nice it had been, how much he wanted it again, it would not be wise to ask for more, and...

“ _Could we PLEASE not do that again?_ ” Bilbo whined loudly. “I swear, sometimes I don't even know what I see in the two of you, you're just so _thick_.”

The two dwarves stared at him.

“What do you...”

“YOU IDIOTS ARE IN LOVE,” the hobbit yelled. “So much so that Dwalin asked me if I was not worried, and if I'd want a room of my own now. Dwalin. _Dwalin_ , of all people, has noticed it, and yet you both act as if... as if you were teenagers with a crush, and you seem to both think that the other is here because of. Well. _Me_. Which is _stupid_. So stop being stupid, and kiss now, and tell each other how much you care for one another, or I swear I'm going back to the Shire, and alone this time.”

“This is ridiculous,” Thorin protested. “I'd have noticed if Bofur had shown any interest in me.”

“Aye,” the other dwarf agreed. “Our Thorin isn't the most subtle of dwarves, is he? I'd have seen it, if there had been something.”

Bilbo threw them a dark look.

“ _Idiots_. Both of you. I'm starting to see why you needed Gandalf's help in the first place, I'm fairly sure the entire company had a full brain even when put together. Thorin, if you must know, it's clear to everyone that Bofur stayed with you because he wanted to stay with you, not out of some misplaced sense of duty as you probably believe, and he grieved you as much as me, if not more. And you, Bofur, I can't believe you haven't noticed how Thorin has used every single occasion he had in the past few days to touch you. He wasn't even _subtle_ about it, if you must know, which bring me back to my conclusion that dwarves are _thick_.”

Thorin frowned, and tried to protest, but with one look Bilbo shut him up.

“Oh no you _don't_ , Thorin, son of Thrain. You do _not_ talk to me right now. I don't want to hear either of you. I can't even see you right now. So I'm going out to see Bombur, because I could do with some tea and a few biscuits, and when I come back, I rather expect the two of you to have settled things, is that clear?”

How one so small could be so terrifying when angry, it was beyond either dwarf. When Bilbo made for the door they did not try to stop him, though they both jumped when the hobbit managed to slam the heavy door behind him. Hobbits certainly were full of surprises.

“Ye don't have to pretend, ye know,” Bofur mumbled after a long silence, looking away. “I can live with it, and I'll talk to him and make sure he doesn't bother you 'bout it.”

“Was it true, then?”

Bofur turned toward Thorin, and there it was again, that sad smile that the king hated for how fake it was.

“I've never known Bilbo to lie, have ye? 'Course it's true. I'd have left him to ye otherwise, and been glad to know he was happy, but I... liked ye too. And you suggested we did... this.” Bofur made a vague gesture between them and the place where the hobbit had been not long before. “Stupid of me to have agreed. But I'm not a very bright dwarf, Bilbo's right about that.”

“Then we are both stupid,” Thorin answered. “Do you really think I'm one to sacrifice myself and agree to have a lover I don't want?”

“For _his_ sake, maybe.”

“You are an idiot, then. But it appears I still love you, and so I do not mind. Now come here, that I may kiss you as our little hobbit ordered. I do not know about you, but I certainly don't want to take the risk of angering him again.”

Bofur eyed him suspiciously.

“Ye're not having me on, are ye?”

“Come closer, and you'll see soon enough,” Thorin answered with a smile.

Bofur hesitated, still unsure that this wasn't some sort of elaborated prank, and the other dwarf regretted he could not stand up and join him to prove just how serious he was. But Bofur, had last, came to sit next to him on the bed.

Thorin did not lose a minute to join their mouths again, his hands cupping the other dwarf's cheeks and caressing his moustache before slipping to the back of his neck. Bofur was tense at first, but he soon relaxed and kissed back with enthusiasm, his own hands on the king's back, pulling him closer.

“Still thinking I am making a sacrifice for Bilbo's sake?” Thorin asked when they pulled away.

“Ye might be. I'll need a bit more convincing, I think. If ye don't mind.”

And, really, Thorin didn't mind at all.

 

When Bilbo came back with tea and biscuits, half an hour later, the two dwarves were still kissing and talking nonsense. The hobbit was immediately invited to join them, and he happily complied.

And all was well.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's funny how I started shipping Bagfurshield because of Bilbo, but now I mostly ship Bofur/Thorin, and Bilbo is just a cute added bonus.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!:D

**Author's Note:**

> and this is what happens when you give me an angsty prompt.


End file.
